


Retribution

by Cameron_McKell



Series: Upon Further Review [47]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Tron (Movies), Tron - All Media Types, Tron: Legacy (2010)
Genre: Coffee, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Gen, Not Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant, Pranks and Practical Jokes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-11 04:31:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8953735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cameron_McKell/pseuds/Cameron_McKell
Summary: (Originally posted on Tumblr, now archived on the AO3.)Sam and Clint think they are funny, Bruce gets a new shirt out of the whole deal.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written after Captain America: The Winter Soldier was released, but before Avengers: Age of Ultron.

Bruce was just finishing buttoning the last two buttons on his new shirt when he went through the door for the debriefing, and stopped short.

“… What are you doing?”

“Shh!” Clint whispered urgently while Sam – Falcon – pantomimed a zipping motion over his mouth. Between the two of them was Tron, slumped in his chair and effectively dead to the world. Lying on the table was an unbuttoned, tropical print shirt.

He let the scene sink in a little as he fixed his last button in place, then continued talking at a whisper.

“You’re both going to die. You know that, right?”

“Not if you don’t tell anyone,” Sam barely dared to breathe, as he – very, _very_ carefully – lifted the unsuspecting program’s limp arm so Clint could thread it through the shirt sleeve.

Bruce just shook his head, and moved to pour himself a cup of Meeting Room Coffee™.

“It’s not Tron that’s going to kill you,” he responded after his first over-extracted-yet-still-somehow-watery sip; that was _really_ terrible. He pulled a face, then turned back for the door. “I’m going to go grab an alibi and some half decent coffee. Feel free to start without me if I’m late.”

Sam just shot him a thumbs up, buttoning the colorful shirt while Clint produced a straw hat seemingly from thin air.

Bruce just shook his head and walked back out.

A little over half an hour later – long enough for those that had needed them to have gotten a shower, and for Bruce to make a sizeable coffee run – Bruce stepped off the elevator with his arms full, heading for the meeting room.

He was just in time to see the door fly open with a loud _‘Smack!’_

The first one to come pelting out of the room was Sam, hands reaching for the pull chords to start up the wings he was still – miraculously – wearing, freshly-broken straw hat flopping around his neck like a terrible Shakespearean collar. He was running headlong at the windows, and didn’t seem inclined to slow down any.

Bruce waited.

The meeting room door swung about halfway shut before a shirtless Clint barreled out and sent it flying into the wall again. The delay – and partial nudity – was explained a fraction of a second later as Bucky charged out, metal arm still caught up in the back of Clint’s abandoned shirt, hot on his heels.

Bruce took half a step back as they charged toward the emergency stairs, then sedately slipped through the still-closing door into the meeting room.

Most of the team was inside, so Bruce started passing out coffee cups until his hands were mostly free, before asking the obvious. “The meeting hasn’t started?”

“Nope,” Tony replied, popping the 'p’ while he secured the leads from the arc reactor on the table in front of him, under the half-removed colorful shirt to Tron’s disk dock. Tron himself was sprawled over the table just as limp as before, but his eyes were open, at least.

Bruce sat down on Tron’s other side, then carefully helped him pull the shirt the rest of the way off, since he was too tired to do so himself. Then, he folded it and set it in his lap.

So he kind of liked the pattern, no big deal.

Natasha took an appreciative sip from her coffee, absently licking excess whipped cream from her top lip; just because she could kill a man twelve different ways with her coffee didn’t mean she was somehow forbidden from liking a 'girly’ drink. “We’re still waiting on Nick.”

“Twenty bucks says Barnes trusses Barton up in the atrium like a Christmas goose,” Tony went on, making appreciative noises at the dark, sweet sludge masquerading as coffee in his own cup.

“Invalid entry,” Tron disagreed, and the humans in the room pretended not to notice the 'computer speak’, or distorted quality to his voice as he dragged himself upright. “Additional variable error.”

“Message incomplete,” Steve responded after a moment of mouthing the words to himself uncertainly. “Resend?”

Tron blinked slowly once, twice, then seemed to have finally pulled enough energy from the arc reactor for coherence. Mostly. “User barjam4 neutralization of _two_ targets in progress. Success estimated…” There was an uncharacteristic pause as he ran the calculation, and Tony reached a hand out to steady him in concern. “… 73.269%.”

“In other words, he’s going to string them _both_ up like Christmas geese in the atrium,” Bruce translated after a moment.

Tron turned slowly to look at him, then slumped back down onto the tabletop. “… Confirmed.”

The team collectively snorted into their coffee.


End file.
